Tribute

Andrew. A friend. A close friend. Or someone who went to the same school, with the same teacher later. And that really narrows the field.”
    “I could look into that, or try. Talk to my grandfather. He and Andrew would be about the same age. He might remember something.”
    Cilla studied her four flat tires. “I think that’s a good idea. If you want answers, you have to ask questions. I have to go to work. And you have to go to the bank.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Have we made up?”
    “Not until we have sex.”
    “I’ll put it on my list.”
    FORD PULLED UP in front of the little suburban house. He heard the purr of a lawn mower as he stepped out of the car, so with Spock he walked around to the side of the house and through the gate of the chain-link fence.
    His grandfather, dressed in a polo shirt, Bermuda shorts and Hush Puppies, pushed the power mower across the short square of lawn between and around the hydrangeas, the rosebushes and the maple tree.
    From the gate, Ford could see the sweat trickling down his grandfather’s temples under his Washington Redskins cap. Ford shouted, made wide arm signals as he started over, and saw the smile spread on his grandfather’s sweaty face when Ford caught his eye.
    Charlie shut off the lawn mower. “Well, hi there. Hi there, Spock,” he added, patting his thigh in invitation for the dog to plant his hind legs for a head rub. “What’re you doing out this way today?”
    “Mowing the rest of your lawn. Granddad, it’s too hot out here for you to be doing this.”
    “Meant to get to it earlier.”
    “I thought you hired a neighborhood kid to do this. That’s what you told me when I said I’d come by and do it.”
    “I was going to.” Charlie’s face moved into what Ford thought of as Quint stubborn. “I like cutting my own grass. Not on my last legs yet.”
    “You’ve got plenty of legs left, but you don’t have to use them working out here when it’s already ninety and humid enough to drown in your own breath. I’ll finish it up. Maybe you could get us a couple of cold drinks. And Spock could use some water,” Ford added, knowing that would do the trick.
    “All right then, all right. But you be sure you put the mower back in the shed when you’re done. And don’t bump into those rosebushes. Come on, Spock.”
    It took less than twenty minutes to finish it off—with his grandfather watching him like a hawk through the back screen door. Which meant, Ford thought, they didn’t have the AC turned on inside.
    By the time Ford stowed the mower, crossed over the tiny cement patio and walked through the screen door, he was dripping. “It’s August, Granddad.”
    “I know what month it is. Think I’m senile?”
    “No, just crazy. Let me assure you, air-conditioning is not a tool of Satan.”
    “Not hot enough for air-conditioning.”
    “It’s hot enough to boil internal organs.”
    “We got a nice cross breeze coming through.”
    “Yeah, from hell.” Ford dropped down at the kitchen table and gulped the iced tea Charlie set out while Spock lay snoring. Probably in a heat-induced coma, Ford thought. “Where’s Grandma?”
    “Your aunt Ceecee picked her up, for the book club gab session at your mother’s bookstore.”
    “Oh. If she was here, she’d give me cookies. I know damn well you gave Spock some before he passed out.”
    Charlie snorted out a laugh, but rose to get a box of thin lemon snaps off the counter where he’d left them after treating Spock. He shook some onto a plate, set it in front of Ford.
    “Thanks. I bought a house.”
    “You’ve got a house already.”
    “Yeah, but this one’s an investment. Cilla’s going to fix it up, perform major miracles, then I’ll sell it and be a rich man. Or I’ll lose my shirt and have to move in with you and Grandma, and suffer from heat prostration. I’m banking on the miracle after seeing what she’s done with her place.”
    “I hear she’s done some fancy work over there. Changed a lot.”
    “For the better, I think.”
    “Guess I’ll see for myself at the Labor Day shindig she’s having. Your grandmother’s already been out shopping for a new outfit. It’ll be strange going to a party there, after all these years.”
    “I guess a lot of people who’ll go would have been to parties there when Janet Hardy was alive.” Perfect opening, Ford thought. “Mom and Dad, Brian’s parents. You knew Bri’s grandfather, right?”
    “Everybody around here